Too Good For Me
by Hedonistic Opportunist
Summary: He'd only break Doumeki – no, he was already breaking him. And every time he did it, Watanuki was breaking a part of himself as well.


_**Too Good For Me **_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**Warning(s)**: A not entirely clear time frame/chronology of events, vagueness, simplistic and bland writing style and somewhat off characterisation? Ah, abuse of brackets and questionable imagery. Oh, and here be spoilers.

Thanks goes to **Calamus** for looking through this. The remaining errors are mine since I constantly changed things here and there. All feedback appreciated?

...

_**(Time never stands still – even when the clock has stopped ticking).**_

Outside, it was snowing, but Watanuki didn't pay much attention to that fact. Somehow, with the passage of years, he had lost the excitability that had once been so characteristic of him as a youth.

_Youth._

Watanuki smiled _(not a happy smile, but the smile of a worn out soldier who, after having fought a long and weary battle, returns home to find everything he's known in ruins)_ at the thought of what the word meant in relation to him. Though his body hadn't aged since he had promised to wait for Yuuko, Watanuki knew that the term "youth" could not be applied to him anymore.

_I'm not pure, naive or excitable anymore. Just tired._

The sad thing was that Watanuki didn't really know what he was tired of: the constant waiting, the monotonousness of his current existence or the fact that, somehow, life was slipping away from him. In other words, it seemed that everyone – even that idiot Doumeki – was part of a great Broadway musical called Life and that, he had missed the chance to join the group.

_(And everyone danced and laughed merrily while he, a lost soul, stood outside in the rain). _

Or something like that. Watanuki wasn't going to pretend that he was any good with metaphors; however, it couldn't be denied that having much time devoted to oneself did make one prone to attempt being more creative. Thankfully, he hadn't reached the pitiful stage of composing badly-written poetry yet.

No matter how deceiving his circumstances were, Watanuki was alone. Yes, he had Maru and Moro helping him out in the store and Mokona– that annoying little thing – was nearly always at his side. Not only Mokuna, Watanuki thought, other magical creatures had the tendency to bother him as well.

_Oh yes, I'm rather popular with them. _

Sometimes, he'd meet Kohane and it truly filled him pleasure to see how she, throughout the years, had grown from a little girl into a young woman. It filled him with both pride and a certain sense of sadness.

_("You're just like a mother hen, aren't you, Watanuki?" Yuuko would have said and Watanuki, blushing furiously, would have denied everything. But Yuuko was gone and sometimes – in his darkest hours - he doubted whether she would come back at all and he'd been left behind with a lousy deal)._

On much rarer, occasions, he would see Himawari who – to pick another lame metaphor – just like a rose was blossoming and becoming more radiant with every passing year. At first, it had been painful – watching her become increasingly more beautiful and, at the same time, more distant.

_(Just like an old grandfather clock that you can admire from afar, but won't tick – no matter how much you wish for it to do so)._

Also, there was always – just like an over-persistent gnat – Doumeki: Doumeki in the morning, bringing him the newspaper, Doumeki at noon with food supplies and Doumeki in the afternoon, waiting for him to bring the sake and food.

Needless to mention, Doumeki often slept over.

To be honest, Watanuki wasn't certain whether he was supposed to be pleased about that or not.

Yet, it didn't matter whether he liked it or not: Doumeki was still there. Watanuki had the feeling that Doumeki would remain on his side even if hell froze over.

_You stupid idiot. Get a life._

_..._

_**(Even when you're not here, I can't get you of my mind).**_

Sometimes, Watanuki wished he'd never slept with Doumeki.

He still wondered what had driven him to that act of stupidity. Had it been curiosity? Too much indulging in alcoholic beverage?

Clenching his fist, Watanuki felt like slapping himself on the forehead for pondering over such dumb issues. He'd already done it - what was the point in thinking about this now?

_(Once you've left the safety and comfort of your nursery, abandoned your toys and stopped believing in fairies you can never go back again). _

_Maybe_, Watanuki thought, _I was just too scared of remaining a virgin forever_.

No, it hadn't been that. Watanuki hadn't been that desperate. Had it only been for the sex, the mere scratching of an itch, then, Watanuki realised as he clenched his fist harder, it wouldn't have been all so bloody complicated.

_(He'd looked so serious that day, face grim and eyes fixed on him – like he was going to disappear any minute. _

_What are you staring at, you idiot? Watanuki had wanted to ask him, in order to make that stupid, serious face disappear. So full of accusations, questions and ... pain._

_He needed didn't this. He didn't want Doumeki to behave like this because of him._

_Moreover, he hadn't asked for Doumeki to love him._

_So he'd kissed him, hoping that it'd make Doumeki stop staring at him like that)._

Watanuki leaned further back against his chair, drawing from his pipe: the bitter taste of tobacco was oddly calming, smoothing away the wrinkles on his forehead and making the frown around his mouth disappear.

The only other sound, apart from the wind howling, was the tapping of his own foot: Watanuki closed his eyes and took in the silence, enjoying that – for once – Mokona wasn't bothering him with its bothersome requests.

And yet, a part of him regretted that Doumeki wasn't here with him right now.

...

_**(I can't just can't stop hurting you).**_

"I don't know why you keep coming here," Watanuki said, his tone detached and cool.

Doumeki didn't say anything, simply continuing to eat. There was no expression of delight on his face; however, the careful way in which he ate struck Watanuki as an act of reverence. It was as if Doumeki cherished every single bite he took.

"So, you're giving me the silent treatment again? Ungrateful bastard. You should at least try to make some attempt at conversation."

Doumeki stopped eating, laid his eating utensils neatly next to the half-empty dish and, for a while, simply started at Watanuki.

"The food is good," he finally said.

_That's his idea of a conversation?_

Watanuki scowled. "It seems that the only thing you're good for is eating my food."

A frown made its way through Doumeki's face as he made sense out of Watanuki's words. "You need me - and you know it."

Sometimes there are moments in life when we're spiteful because there's an all too easy occasion to be so _(a knife offered to slit your enemies throat – of course, you can't do anything but slit)_. And Watanuki - maybe because he was upset or bored - felt like lashing out all of his anger on someone or something. It wasn't fair or good, but, then again, life fairly is.

_(And Watanuki was only human). _

"I don't know where you got the idea from, but I don't need you. There," Watanuki paused, head spinning as he forced himself to calm down, "is only one person I need and she's not here. But I'll wait for her. And you, you Doumeki, are ... whether you're here or not doesn't make a difference."

There, he'd done it.

_Stupid idiot shouldn't think he's special just because he gets to eat my food, from time to time._

An untrained eye might not have perceived it, but Watanuki, having spent the last decade getting more than merely acquainted to Doumeki, sensed that he'd gone too far.

There was a frown on Doumeki's face and his eyes – or, better said – one eye blinked; his body language was tense - his hands were curled into fists and he was biting his lower lip.

But Watanuki didn't take it back. Even though his insides felt like being shred apart and he was sick to the stomach, Watanuki didn't apologise.

_(It's so much easier to throw the first arrow than to bow down and ask for forgiveness). _

When Doumeki stood up, took the dishes and chopsticks with him in order to place them into the sink, Watanuki just watched him _(another nameless spectator observing the puppet move in accord to the music)_.

When Doumeki left, Watanuki didn't even flinch.

He was used to it.

...

_**(The cruel game- a most vicious cycle- will continue. Until one of us drops dead). **_

Doumeki, however, didn't stay away for long and Watanuki hadn't expected him to. He always came back.

_(Just like an obedient puppy, returning to his master voluntarily - even if the only reward for its endeavours is nothing but getting scolded)_.

"You just can't get rid of me that easily," Doumeki said and it was then Watanuki noticed that his clothes were soaked wet. The stubborn moron had come to the store without bothering to protect himself properly against the bad weather. As Watanuki threw a quick glance at the window and saw the snowdrops twirling in the wind, he shook his head disapprovingly.

Doumeki looked awful – it was more than evident that he hadn't been sleeping or eating well for the past few days.

But worse than that, he was rambling - sentences and words rushing out of his mouth in a tangled, incoherent mess.

_(Like a broken coffee machine that produces milk instead of coffee). _

"I've been thinking about what you said, about how my being here doesn't make a difference. And ..." Doumeki hesitated, his eye blazing with emotion _(defiant, loving)_.

"And?" Watanuki didn't want to hear it; however, he also knew that running away wasn't going to solve any problems - not right now.

"I've realised I don't care. I don't care whether you need me or not. I need you," Doumeki replied, his voice firm and full of conviction.

Of all the stupid -

He pulled Watanuki into a hug, hands shaking as he held on tightly. "_I love yo_u, Watanuki."

For a second, Watanuki thought he was going to stop breathing – it was as if someone had deliberately punched him in the guts.

Oh, he'd known for a while that Doumeki was crazy for him, but he'd rarely heard those words uttered. And, more than rarely, did Doumeki say those words like this.

_(Laying his heart out on the table, waiting for the culprit to cut the offered present into little pieces and devour it bit by bit)._

Watanuki wanted to push Doumeki away, call him a sentimental fool and pretend that nothing had happened. But he couldn't: this wasn't _nothing._

_I can't pretend that this doesn't move me._

Perhaps, this one time, Watanuki decided that it was okay to acknowledge Doumeki's feelings – he deserve that much, at least.

"I know – and you're an idiot for loving someone like me." Watanuki traced Doumeki's cheek with his fingers, shaking his head in a rueful manner as he did so. As his fingers wandered over Doumeki's chin, he noticed that the skin wasn't smooth.

_What a loser. He even forgot to shave. You're an idiot too for not realising just how much I rely on you._

Because, as it stood, Doumeki was free to leave any time, while Watanuki was bound under an unseen contract to remain here. No, he didn't regret his decision. Yet, sometimes, he did fear that, one fine day, Doumeki wouldn't be there anymore.

_(And he, the forgotten dancer, would forevermore remain rooted on the same spot - like a forgotten puppet that has never been put on stage). _

With that mind, Watanuki kissed Doumeki. Not the way he usually did _(loneliness and frustration intermingling, becoming one big great bundle of despair)_, but gently and tenderly. For once, just allowing himself to show Doumeki that he did appreciate him, that – as wrong and selfish as it was – he did consider him an important person.

_I don't want to love you. But I do._

That night, as the snow fell in pitter-patters onto the ground and turned green-brown landscapes into winter wonderlands, Doumeki's hands shook as he touched Watanuki's body – hands caressing his hair, fingers tracing his collarbone (always protective and loving).

"I love you," Doumeki kept saying as he moved inside of Watanuki, his breath hot and his thrusts gentle. Watanuki just closed his eyes, throat heavy with words he'd never said but wanted to say _(Don't ever let me go. I love you too. I'll die when you're gone)_.

But he remained silent, merely making a choking sound when Doumeki, after he'd tenderly brushed some hair away, kissed his forehead.

_Don't be so gentle with me. I don't deserve it._

He'd only break Doumeki – no, he was already breaking him. And every time he did it, Watanuki was breaking a part of himself as well.

...


End file.
